


Proclivities

by sabinelagrande



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Airships, Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, F/M, Forced Marriage, M/M, Perfunctory Victorian Sex, Sado-Masochism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-01-11
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:33:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through a series of unfortunate events, Elizabeth Weir finds herself as the latest Lady Caldwell. How ever will she manage?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was already high by the time Elizabeth's ship rose above the city of M__, beating its batlike wings as it glided in and out of the moorings of the massive zeppelins which dominated the sky. The ground passed swiftly underneath it, the city giving way to the countryside as they drew ever closer to Blackshire.

As smooth as the flight was, the months preceding it had been rocky at best for Pegasus Manufacturing. Built from the ground up by the late Robert Weir, it had, until recently, been capably managed by his daughter, Elizabeth. Elizabeth had pushed the company to new heights, focusing her research on faster, lighter, more powerful airships than had ever been seen before. They called her mad, and they were right- brilliant for pushing onwards, but mad for refusing to compromise her vision, pushing her investors away one by one until the company was practically insolvent.

Only a month prior, Elizabeth had gathered her most trusted staff- John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, Rodney McKay, and Radek Zelenka- to deliver the unwanted news.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, arranging her notes in front of her. "As you know, most of our present funding comes to us through the investments of Jack and Samantha O'Neill and their close friend Doctor Jackson."

Rodney snorted. "Their very, _very_ close friend Doctor Jackson." Beside him, John snickered into his hand.

"I do not believe that casting aspersions is an exercise we need to begin at this table," Teyla warned them.

"I'm not casting aspersions," Rodney protested. "I'm just saying that there's a word in French for what they're doing."

"If we're finished discussing the O'Neills' personal life?" Elizabeth said, and Rodney waved a hand at her. "While their contributions have been very generous indeed, our present rate of growth is not sustainable if we are to rely solely on their capital."

"She means we're broke," Ronon said gruffly.

"Thank you, Ronon," Elizabeth replied. "Mister Dex is essentially correct. If we don't find new investors by year's end, we will have to cease production."

"I do not wish to cause any upset," Teyla said, leaning forward, "but there is still the offer from Daedalus Dry Goods to consider."

John made an unsatisfied noise. "I thought we already talked about that. We don't make cargo runs."

"We wouldn't," Teyla reminded him. "The offer would merely require us to devote a percentage of our time to development of large-scale vessels for Daedalus. What we do with the rest of it is our choice."

Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, we can sell out and be brilliant, or we can stick to our principles and be poor. It's up to you, Elizabeth."

"As much as it pains me to say, Rodney is right," Zelenka said, resting his chin on one hand. "With Daedalus, we can do better."

John held up his hands. "All I'm trying to say is that we can do better than Daedalus."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "I'm not so sure that's true," she admitted. She sighed. "Very well. I'll consider our options and have a decision by the beginning of the week," she told them, but there had never been any doubt in her mind as to what course of action she would need to take.

And now she was here, driven at last to suffer the merger of her father's company for the sake of preserving it. She felt the weight of his watch in her pocket, and just for a moment she wished desperately that he were there to save her.

No time for that now, she thought to herself, shaking her head and focusing on the meeting to come. She let Peter help her out of her duster; she lifted her goggles delicately off of her head, replacing them with her hat, adjusting it just so on top of her curls.

Her suit was a deep carmine, cut very closely to emphasize her slim waist and willowy silhouette, its skirt sweeping the floor as she strode out towards the bay doors. She barely paused as the airship alit upon the lawn of Cold Spring Manor; she nodded at Ronon as he pulled the heavy chain to lower the ramp into the grass.

The lord of the manor himself waited to greet her. He was dressed in a charcoal frock coat, marked by an unassuming olive cravat; his carriage more than made up for his drab attire, his regal bearing marking him immediately.

Elizabeth swept down the ramp towards him, her aide following in her wake. "Lord Caldwell," she greeted him, offering her hand.

He bent and kissed it before speaking. "Doctor Weir. A pleasure to see you, as always."

"Allow me to introduce my right hand, Peter Grodin," she said, gesturing to him.

"How do you do," Caldwell said, shaking his hand. "The reporter from the Picayune is already inside. Shall we?"

Caldwell's office was much as Elizabeth expected. The walls were done in dark wooden panelling, interrupted here and there with huge bookshelves. A map of the world dominated one wall, set in a gilt frame embellished with arcane carvings.

A man stood peering at it, examining it carefully. He was quite a small man; a massive black camera hung around his neck, looking like it might drag him down at any moment. When he didn't turn around at the sound of their entrance, Caldwell cleared his throat.

The man whirled around. "Lord Caldwell!" he exclaimed, sounding startled. "Bertram Potts, society editor for the Picayune," he said, shaking their hands in turn. "It's awfully nice to meet you."

"Society editor?" Caldwell asked. "That seems a strange place for this announcement."

"On the contrary!" the little man said. "Our readers are very interested in this sort of news."

"Please, have a seat," Caldwell said, motioning to the set of large leather armchairs in one corner of the office and seating himself.

"Oh, thank you," Potts said, sitting down. "I don't intend to take up much of your time, but I would like just a few words from both of you concerning your big announcement."

"Of course," Elizabeth said. "We'd be delighted."

Potts took out his notebook and pencil, flipping to an empty page. "How long have you been considering this arrangement?"

"It has been quite sudden," Elizabeth said, "but it can't possibly come at a better time. Both our companies will benefit greatly from this decision."

"Of course," he said. "And you, your lordship, what are your thoughts?"

"I agree completely with Doctor Weir," he replied. "Though this decision has not taken long, it has been very carefully considered. This is the best possible option for both of us. Our strengths complement each other, and we will be able to supplement certain weaknesses through our merger."

"We expect our union to be very fruitful," Elizabeth added.

"And how soon will your union be?" Potts asked.

"I should think preparations will be completed by the end of the month," Elizabeth said, looking to Caldwell for confirmation.

"Yes, we should be combining our properties by then," he said.

"Thank you so much for your time," the reporter said, jotting down a last few notes. "If you wouldn't mind taking a photograph?"

"Of course," Caldwell said, standing up and offering Elizabeth a hand. "Shall we do it in front of the window?"

"That's perfect, thank you," he said, reaching for the camera that hung around his neck. "If you could stand just a little closer together?" he asked, peering at them through his viewfinder. "Excellent. Just hold still for a moment, please." The flash left Elizabeth blinking; she grasped Caldwell's arm momentarily for support. "You'll see the announcement in tomorrow's Picayune," Potts said, "and of course you'll receive a copy of the photograph." He shook their hands again, excitedly. "And let me say how happy I am for the both of you."

He exited, followed closely by Peter, talking animatedly to himself. "What a strange little man," Caldwell said.

"He forgot to ask what we were going to call the company," Elizabeth observed. "How odd."

He shrugged. "Better to leave the readers with something to talk about, I suppose." He walked over to the credenza, picking up one of the stoppered crystal bottles. "Brandy?"

"Only a little one," Elizabeth allowed.

He poured out a glass for each of them, offering one to Elizabeth. "To a successful partnership," he told her.

"To Atlantis Trading," she returned, and they both drank. "I imagine we'll be seeing much more of each other once the merger is secured," she remarked.

"I look forward to it," he said, and there was something on his face that she didn't quite recognize, something appealing, even though she was certain he was only being polite.

"They're ready for you, Doctor Weir," Grodin interrupted, stepping back into the study.

Elizabeth drank off the rest of her brandy. "I have to go. I'll see you when you come back to the city?"

He nodded, smiling at her. "We'll work out the final arrangements once I've returned."

"Until then," Elizabeth replied, setting her glass down on the credenza and letting Peter lead her out.

\--

Elizabeth awoke the next morning to a loud banging on her door. After assuring herself it was not part of the dream she'd just woken up from, she rolled over, blinking at the little brass clock on her nightstand; it informed her that the time was absolutely ridiculously early.

Before she could do much else, the doors to her room burst open and Teyla swept in, wearing the royal blue riding dress she preferred, her hat still pinned in place.

"My apologies," Peter protested, following her in. "I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't hear of it."

"That's alright," she said groggily, waving a hand at him. "Go and arrange for some tea, won't you?"

Peter nodded, looking suspiciously at Teyla as he closed the doors behind them.

"We have a situation requiring immediate attention," she said, tossing a newspaper onto Elizabeth's bed. She went to the window and threw back the curtains, filling the room with sunlight.

"What's all this?" she asked, picking up the newspaper and staring blearily at the headline.

SURPRISE WEDDING FOR BUSINESS MAGNATES stared back at her.

She sat straight up, gaping at the paper. "If this is a joke, Teyla, it isn't funny."

Teyla ignored the slight. "Read on," she said grimly.

"'The future Lady Caldwell predicted a fruitful union'-" Elizabeth read in disbelief. "Teyla, we were talking about the merger!" She threw back the bedclothes, making to climb out of the bed. "I'm going down to that publisher's office immediately."

"The damage has already been done," Teyla pointed out. "Everyone in the city will already have this paper at their doorstep."

"I cannot allow this to stand," Elizabeth said. "Teyla, if everyone in the city knows, then it's as good as true."

"Lord Caldwell returns this afternoon," Teyla reminded her. "I suggest you wait until then before doing anything rash. The two of you can work out what course of action is most prudent."

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Elizabeth called, and Peter entered, carrying a tea tray and another copy of the offending paper. "I am _not_ receiving today," she told him. "If it's anyone but Doctor McKay, Mister Sheppard, Missus O'Neill, or Mister Dex, send them away."

"Of course," he answered. He drew himself up to his full height. "I wanted to be the first to say-"

"Peter," she said sharply. "If you congratulate me, you're fired."

"Good morning," Peter covered smoothly. "I wanted to be the first to say good morning to you."

"Thank you," she replied; he nodded and took his leave. Elizabeth sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I'm sorry to have been so rude. Please, sit down and have some tea."

Teyla's face softened. "There is no need to apologize," she said, patting Elizabeth's hand. "But I must be going. Will you come to the factory today?"

She shook her head. "I have to sort out this catastrophe."

"Very well," Teyla said, inclining her head. "I will see you soon, then."

When Teyla had gone, Elizabeth flung the covers over her head and determined never to come out again.

By noon, Elizabeth had a pounding headache and a stack of calling cards half an inch thick. Aside from dressing and attempting to make a house from them, she had gotten little accomplished.

Elizabeth had never thought much about marriage, to be perfectly frank. She had always had other concerns- her career, mainly. As far as she understood it, the primary goals of marriage for a woman of her class were the assurance of financial security and the production of children, things Elizabeth had never particularly seen the need for. There had been Simon, of course, but that seemed like a world away; she had been so young then.

Would it be so bad to be married to Lord Caldwell? Surely she could do much worse than a baron, especially one who had made a fortune for himself apart from his family's holdings. She had never found his presence particularly odious, and she fancied that sometimes he looked at her contemplatively; she could see how it might be thrilling to have all his attention focused on only her.

It was a sign of her despair that she was even considering this.

A tentative knock at the door interrupted her reverie. "Doctor, Lord Caldwell is here," Peter said nervously. "He is refusing to be sent away."

"I'll see him in the parlor," Elizabeth said, standing and flicking imaginary dust off of her skirt. She refused to indulge in the feminine conceit of arbitrarily making her male callers wait; she resisted the urge to temporize, going down to face him immediately.

When she reached the parlor, he was leaning heavily on the mantle of the fireplace, looking into the flames. He straightened at the sound of her arrival, nodding to her. "Elizabeth," he said, a slightly mischievous smile on his face. "I assume it is proper to call you that, since you're my fiance and all."

"Clever," she said, a little sarcastically.

"We're in quite a mess, aren't we?" he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "That's putting it lightly."

"I've contacted my lawyers," Caldwell said, turning away from her to pace the floor. "We're prepared to bring suit against the paper if a proper retraction isn't given. The whole matter should be taken care of in a few months, in the worst case."

"Would you marry me?" she asked, her eyes cast downwards.

He whirled around to face her. "Are you proposing?"

"Our reputations are hinging on this point," she told him, forcing herself to look into his eyes. "Our business arrangement was always going to be unusual, and I trust that rumors had already started. Now, with this announcement, if we try to proceed as planned- after the lawsuit and retraction- we'll be quite the scandal."

He snorted. "So you think the solution to our problems is holy matrimony?"

She shrugged. "I can't speak for you, obviously, but I have no intention of marrying anyone else. Is it so different than what we had planned?"

"Yes," he told her. "But I see your point." He looked her up and down. "You'd better start looking for a dressmaker. A month is just enough time to get the chapel at my estate back in working order."

"A wedding outside the city would be best," she agreed. "My secretary will begin arrangements immediately."

"Excellent," he said. "Well, I don't want to take up any more of your time, Elizabeth."

"I'm sure you have business to attend to," she said diplomatically. "I'll be in touch-" she faltered, suddenly realizing she had no idea what his first name was.

"Steven," he supplied, smirking.

"Steven," she parroted.

And just like that, Elizabeth was affianced.

By the end of the month, she found herself in the chapel at Cold Spring, attended by Teyla and Samantha. The bishop spoke a few words, and suddenly there she was, standing next to her husband.

Elizabeth had been running a company almost single-handedly since she was twenty-four and had never been through a more business-like procedure.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth knocked on the oak and iron doors at the front of what was now the airship manufacturing division of Atlantis Trading, LLP, conscious of Lord Caldwell standing beside her. It was two weeks after their precipitate wedding; it shocked Elizabeth to see how quickly their properties had become commingled. It was still jarring to walk past the doors of her father's study and hear voices inside, or to step around a clumsy piece of furniture only to realize it had been moved to her rooms at Cold Spring.

The heavy doors swung open. "Everybody's in the back," Ronon said, with his usual deference.

They passed quickly through the front of the building, with its offices, receiving area, and drawing boards. This was as far as Caldwell- or anyone outside the company- had ever been allowed before. Elizabeth pushed open the thin green door marked "Employe's Onlie", a relic from the previous owners that had never quite gotten fixed.

The door opened on to an enormous space, its smooth concrete floor lined with craft in various states of repair. Its ceiling was one huge skylight, divided by the steel beams that gave it support.

"This is the hangar," Elizabeth said, and the affection she felt for the place was clear in her voice.

To his credit, Caldwell seemed suitably awed, taking a walk around and considering it, speechless.

A scuffling from the outskirts of the room caught their attention. Her senior staff had organized itself into a sort of reception line, which was, honestly, more organized than she'd seen them be in the entire time she'd had them in her employ.

"I take it these are yours?" he said wryly, letting her lead him over to them.

Elizabeth ignored him. "Allow me to introduce our pilot, John Sheppard."

"We've met," John said.

Elizabeth looked at them in surprise. "Really?"

"In Her Majesty's service," Caldwell said.

Observing the looks on both of their faces, Elizabeth decided to press on. "And here are Rodney McKay and Radek Zelenka."

" _Doctor_ Rodney McKay," Rodney said, wiping his greasy hands off on his apron before shaking Caldwell's hand.

"Doctor McKay and Doctor Zelenka are our chief inventors and engineers."

"Really, it's mostly me," Rodney said modestly, and Zelenka gave him a dark look.

"You've met Teyla Emmagan, who functions as our navigator and cartographer." Teyla inclined her head, acknowledging Caldwell's bow. "And this is Ronon Dex, who is our security specialist, in addition to being a skilled field mechanic."

"Security?" he asked. "Surely this isn't such a rough neighborhood."

"Not here," Ronon said. "Up there."

He frowned. "I don't follow you."

"I don't think we should tell him," John said, sotto voce.

"That is ridiculous," Teyla countered. "Surely he will find out."

"Find out what?" Caldwell demanded.

"Why don't we tour the hangar?" Elizabeth cut in. "This is a subject for another time."

Caldwell looked, for a moment, like he might protest, but then he shook his head. "Lead on."

"We should show him Model Number 18," Ronon offered.

"That's just the thing," Elizabeth agreed. "This way, my lord."

Model Number 18 was a short, broad craft; it stood in marked contrast to its slender neighbors. "This is the largest craft we have completed," Elizabeth explained as they walked. "It was before we chose to specialize in lighter craft, obviously. Stand back, please."

She reached up and grabbed the door release, pulling down with all her strength, and the door clanked open, revealing the wood and aluminum interior of the craft.

"It runs on naquadria, of course, as do all our airships," she told him, following him inside the vessel. "The cockpit is to your left, and as you can see, the crew sleeps just behind it, with the cargo bay aft and the engine room below."

"This is the largest ship you've built?" Caldwell said skeptically, ducking his head into the cockpit.

"The ones we build for Atlantis will be much larger than this one," Elizabeth told him. "We will, of course, have to sacrifice some speed."

"No, we won't," Rodney piped up.

"How fast will this one go?" Caldwell asked.

McKay and Zelenka huddled together, waving their arms and talking animatedly back and forth.

Caldwell considered the two of them. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"Suffice it to say we haven't told Air Control," John said smugly.

"Fair enough," Caldwell allowed. "I notice that there are only three bunks."

John's face was panicked. "That's, uh, because-"

"I sleep in the cockpit," Ronon said quickly.

"Yes, Ronon sleeps in the cockpit," Rodney added hastily. "For safety. In case there's a problem. In the night."

"So, there are only three bunks," John concluded.

Caldwell looked at all of them suspiciously. "Right."

"Of course, the living quarters can be outfitted in numerous ways," Elizabeth said. "As can the cargo bay- it's just through these doors here. Shall we?" She held out an arm to lead Lord Caldwell on, and Rodney gave her a pathetically grateful look behind his back.

"I'm afraid there's not much to see here," Elizabeth said. "It is rather standard, as cargo bays go- there are extra compartments here, here, and-"

"What on Earth is that for?" Caldwell said, not paying attention.

Elizabeth had, of course, forgotten about the massive gun rack.

"This is stupid," Ronon said. "We need to just tell him."

"Yes," Caldwell said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You need to just tell me."

Elizabeth sighed. Better to do it quickly, she supposed. "Lord Caldwell, what have you heard of the Wraith?"

He shrugged. "Children's stories."

"Then you are better off than we are," Zelenka said darkly.

"Our primary focus is research and development," Elizabeth told him, "but our secondary goal is to assist in the eradication of the Wraith that plague our skies."

Caldwell raised an eyebrow at her. "If this is a joke-"

"Trust me, we all wish it were," Rodney interjected.

"I have been in the highest echelons of Her Majesty's forces," Caldwell protested, "and I have never once heard serious talk about the Wraith."

"The Wraith fly above the reach of most airships, so few people have seen them up close," Rodney explained.

"And lived," Ronon added.

"Why would Her Majesty want the commoners knowing that they're in constant danger?" John replied. "And who would believe it if they were told? You don't believe it now."

Caldwell sighed. "If this isn't some hazing that all new employees go through, you'd better tell me everything you know."

"It should be Teyla," Ronon said. "It's less scary when she does it."

Teyla inclined her head at him before she began to speak. "My family have known about the Wraith's existence for many decades," she explained. "We believe they are a kind of vampire, one whose domain is restricted to the air. They have an ability to pull the life from a person's body."

Caldwell snorted. "This is ridiculous-"

"If I had not watched it happen to my father," Teyla said over him, "I would not believe it myself."

He stopped, giving her an appraising look; he seemed to find something convincing in her eyes. "My apologies for the interruption. Please continue."

"I am not known as a woman given to flights of fancy," she said seriously. "When I tell you that I have seen them turn to smoke, only to reappear out of nowhere, I am not under the effect of any hysteria. I have seen them take a grown man and throw him across the sky as if he were no more than a doll. I have seen them laugh as they kill. We do not know why they harm humans. What is clear is that they enjoy it."

An inexplicable shadow of pain passed over Caldwell's features. "I see."

"This is a lot to take in," Elizabeth said sympathetically.

He gave her a wry look. "I am a grown and relatively self-sufficient man, Elizabeth. I believe I can handle the truth."

"Wait, you actually believe us?" Rodney asked incredulously.

"I am somewhat skeptical," Caldwell replied. "And I'm not prepared to rule out a very well-orchestrated joke. But if there's not some truth to it, you're the best pack of liars I've ever met."

"We could always show him," John pointed out.

"Good day for it," Ronon said, smiling predatorially

"I thought we agreed that we weren't going to antagonize the Wraith on purpose," Elizabeth said, with a sigh.

"It's stress relief," Ronon protested.

"Maybe for you," Elizabeth said, "but for those of us on the ground, it is slightly more nerve-wracking."

"You have nothing to fear from me," Caldwell told her. "I would like to see these things firsthand, but I've no interest in fighting a battle unnecessarily."

Elizabeth took a moment to be thankful for the fact that, accidentally or not, she'd married someone with a little more sense than certain daredevils of her acquaintance. "Shall we continue on with our tour?"

"We have a telephone," Rodney said excitedly. "Would you like to see our telephone?"

Caldwell pulled out his pocket watch. "I'm afraid I have an engagement at two o'clock."

"You could call them!" Rodney offered.

"Rodney," John sighed. "We've been over this. Nobody has a telephone in this town except for us and the post office."

"You're just jealous of the telephone," Rodney accused.

"I'll just be going," Caldwell said, eying the two of them.

"I'll see you out," Elizabeth said, happy to leave them to bicker in peace.

\--

Upon returning home that night, Elizabeth was in good spirits. Introducing Lord Caldwell to her closest allies had gone far smoother than she had expected, aside from the one rough spot with John. But then, John seemed to know everyone in the city, and more often than not he had some reason to dislike them- or vice versa.

She came in by the back entrance, a habit she had picked up long ago; the narrow staircase took her past the servants' quarters and on up into the foyer.

As she passed through the downstairs, she heard voices just around the corner.

"Is the master home yet?" one of them tittered.

"He won't be home for a long, long while," the other one giggled.

"I bet it's a blond."

"As if the master would want anything so common! I bet it's a redhead."

Elizabeth did not care to hear anymore. She rounded the corner, facing the two of them. "Caroline, Emily," she snapped, and the two girls straightened immediately. Elizabeth made a point to know all of her staff by name as a matter of principle, but using it to startle them was nice as well.

"I'm so sorry, my lady," Emily said immediately, falling all over herself to apologize. "We weren't-"

"You have jobs to do," Elizabeth said icily. "I suggest you go do them. Is Mister Grodin still here?"

The smarter one curtsied. "Yes, my lady."

"Tell him I must speak to him at once." She continued up the stairs, ignoring the simpering apologies behind her, and went to the drawing room to await Peter.

He was as punctual as ever. "My lady," he said, with a little bow.

"Come and sit down," she told him, and she could tell by his wary look that she sounded as angry as she felt. He sat down next to her. "It seems my house knows something that I don't know."

She could see it register on his face immediately; he was already well aware of what she was going to ask. "I would not want to upset you with idle talk," he said stiffly.

"Peter," she said, taking his hand. "You are not a servant. You are my most trusted confidant. If there is something I need to know, I am not ordering you to tell me. I am asking you as a friend."

Peter sighed. "There are stories, Elizabeth."

"Of what?"

"They say he's still seen in the company of." He coughed. "Ladies of easy virtue. They say it's an open secret that your marriage is- forgive me, my lady- a sham."

"I see," she said coldly. "Do they say, or is it true?"

"By all accounts," he admitted reluctantly. "My lady, I would never-"

"I'm not mad at you," she said shortly. "Make sure I am notified the moment his lordship returns."

Peter bowed deeply. "Of course." He looked hesitant. "I hope you won't- Caroline's mother is very ill, and without her support-"

"I'm not going to fire them for gossipping," she reassured him. "I'm not sure how they can do their jobs while being so incredibly stupid, but as long as they continue to do so, I won't question it. And besides," she said, her teeth clenched, "everyone important already knows."

She walked off before Peter could say anything else.

She went up to her small office, getting steadily angrier by the minute. They had gotten into this whole catastrophe precisely to avoid this kind of public shame. If she wanted to be the center of a scandal, they could have saved time and money by not getting married at all.

Her anger, however, went deeper than concern for her reputation. They had not been wed under the most conventional of circumstances, but he _was_ her husband, and by God, he was going to act like it.

After she was informed of his arrival, she steeled herself, going to find him in his study. He sat hunched over his desk, studying some kind of reports; he definitely didn't look like a man who'd just returned from a tryst, and Elizabeth very nearly lost her nerve.

He looked up after some moments, noticing her for the first time. "Elizabeth, I am not in the mood," he told her, looking back at his papers.

"Neither am I, but there are matters to be discussed that will not wait."

He looked up at her again. "You're not going to go away until I listen to you, are you?"

"No."

He sighed wearily and waved a hand for her to begin.

"It has come to my attention," she said, her posture even more rigid than normal, "that you have engaged in certain dalliances. These are to stop immediately."

He snorted a laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't bother to deny it," she told him. "The news is all over the house, and I daresay that the whole town knows by now."

He pushed back from his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "And what if it is true?"

"Then it has to stop," she repeated.

"You don't know what you're playing at. Those dalliances," he said, his tone mocking, "are the only thing shielding you."

There was something in his manner that she'd never seen before, a side of him that had been hidden up until now. It unsettled her, but she pressed on anyway. "The only thing I wish to be shielded from, my lord," she returned, snapping his title like an insult, "is the shame of having an unfaithful husband."

"There are worse things," he said, his eyes growing dark. He stood up and advanced on her slowly, his movements graceful and predatory. "Do you know what it is that I do with those girls?"

Elizabeth swallowed, composing herself before speaking. "I have a fairly good idea."

"I'm certain that you think you do," he told her. "But _that_ I could get from anyone. I could even get it from you."

"And I am prepared to discharge my duties in this area," she said primly.

"How am I supposed to resist when you make it sound _so_ exciting," he replied, sarcasm dripping off his words.

"If there's something other than _that_ you want," she said, looking him squarely in the eye, "then I must confess that it's beyond me."

"It is," he said, and she fancied that she heard something rueful in his tone. "Unless you'd like to be tied down in my bed," he said, and he was quite close to her now, close enough that she could feel his breath. "Unless you want to feel the sting of the lash on your pretty back." He circled around her, but she didn't dare to follow him with her eyes. Her heart was beating faster and faster, the room seeming to grow warmer the closer he came. "Unless you want to know that every second of your pain only brings me closer to the edge."

She bit her lip, but she was unable to stop the cry that escaped her. A curious tension was building inside of her; it was like nothing she'd ever felt before. She felt excited and sickened and hot all over, and she couldn't for the life of her decide if she wanted to hear more.

He stopped in front of her, looking at her with a kind of hungry certainty in his eyes. "Or maybe you do."

Left with no other recourse, she turned on her heel and fled the room.


	3. Chapter 3

It was another busy day at Atlantis Trading. John and Ronon were engaged in making minor repairs to one of John's favorite little high-speed craft; it barely qualified as a puddlejumper, but John adored it. Radek and Rodney were deep in argument over the designs for the new full-sized ship, scribbling on their plans and talking over each other. Elizabeth moved back and forth between them, holding a wrench for Ronon or keeping Zelenka from hitting Rodney with the same.

In the office, Teyla was reviewing her maps and keeping a covert eye on Lord Caldwell. He insisted on auditing Atlantis's finances; Elizabeth knew there was nothing to worry about, but Caldwell and his accountant had been hovering all day, asking pointed questions and colluding quietly.

Truth be told, Caldwell's presence by itself was enough to drive her to distraction. They'd both been in foul moods since the incident in his study; Elizabeth could only guess what the cause of his was, but she hadn't been able to stop brooding on his words. They'd been tip-toeing around each other, which was no mean feat in a townhouse, but there was no place to hide from one another in the airy environs of the shop.

Elizabeth only realized she'd become distracted again when she heard Teyla call her name. "We may have trouble," she was saying. "Mister Cowen is here."

Caldwell looked up from his paperwork. "Trouble?"

"You've heard of Genii Limited?" Elizabeth said, untying her apron and tossing it onto a chair. "Cowen is the owner."

"He's been snooping around here for months trying to steal my designs," Rodney added.

" _Our_ designs," Zelenka corrected.

"Are Kolya and Radim with him?" Elizabeth asked.

"Are they ever not?" Rodney returned.

"Acastus Kolya is Cowen's personal bodyguard," Elizabeth explained as she made her way to the front door, followed closely by Caldwell. "Ladon Radim is his son-in-law and heir apparent. Neither of them are particularly welcome here."

"And you're going to let them in?" Caldwell asked in disbelief.

"What will people say of us if we can't provide the barest civility to our competitors?" Elizabeth said, and Caldwell only snorted in response.

They intercepted Cowen and his cronies before they could get anywhere near the hangar. Flanked by Kolya and Radim, Cowen was looking around and whistling appreciatively. "You've got quite a place here," he told Caldwell.

"I believe you meant to address the owner of this facility," Caldwell said stiffly.

Cowen huffed a laugh. "I am, aren't I?" When Caldwell refused to respond, he turned to Elizabeth. "Lady Caldwell."

"Mister Cowen," she replied, smiling in a way that didn't quite reach her eyes. "How can I help you today?"

"Just a friendly visit," he assured her. "Just wanted to see what you were up to here."

"We're doing quite well, thank you," Elizabeth said, deliberately not offering any further hospitality.

John and Ronon chose that inopportune moment to emerge from the hangar, talking amongst themselves. Ronon recognized what was happening immediately; he blocked the door to the hangar with his body, staring daggers at Kolya.

"You know what I'd really like to see?" Cowen said, leaning forward. "I'd love to take a look at those ships of yours."

"We are quite busy at the moment," Elizabeth said, fake smile plastered to her face. "We regret that we cannot offer tours of our facilities to anyone."

"Nonsense," Cowen chuckled. "You don't need to give us a tour. I'm certain we can find our way on our own."

He stepped forward, only to be blocked by Caldwell. "The Lady Caldwell no longer requires your presence," he said, drawing himself up to his full height, "and neither do I."

"Well," Cowen said, and there was more mockery in that one word than Elizabeth could bear. "We'll just let ourselves out, then, but I'm certain we'll see each other again very soon. Come on, friends," he said to Kolya and Radim, and finally, mercifully, they left.

When the door had closed behind them, Elizabeth turned to Caldwell. "I am perfectly capable of defending myself."

Caldwell looked unhappy. "Just because you can doesn't mean I shouldn't."

Elizabeth's heart swelled a little at that, but she pushed the feeling away. She turned back towards her staff, who were pointedly not looking at the two of them. "I think we have a problem here."

"That was not the most subtle threat I have ever heard," Teyla agreed.

"We need night guards," Ronon said. "At least two."

"And we're going to have to start hiring new people to work on the big ship," Rodney pointed out. "They could easily sneak someone in to spy for them."

"Then we'll have to examine their backgrounds carefully," Elizabeth told him.

"I also want to vet any new employees," Caldwell said.

Elizabeth frowned. "I'm not sure that's necessary."

"In this case, I don't think it would be a bad idea," John said grudgingly. "Having more eyes can't hurt."

"Very well," she said. "Any other suggestions?"

"Start locking the front door during business hours," Zelenka said. "I do not care if we are not civil."

"That's good," Rodney said. "I'd hate to think you'd undergone some massive personality change in the last ten minutes." He looked thoughtful. "Although-"

"Anyway," Elizabeth said. "We shall all keep our eyes and ears open for the foreseeable future."

"And don't open the door for anyone," Zelenka added.

\--

Elizabeth went to her bedchamber early that night, exhausted by the events and tension of the day. As she undressed, there was a knock at the door; it was on the tip of her tongue to ask who it could be, but then she realized with a start that it could only be one person.

She nodded at her lady's maid, who went over and peeked through the crack in the door before opening it.

"Steven," Elizabeth said, trying not to sound surprised at his visit. "Please come in."

Laura gave her a knowing look, curtseying before she took her leave, shutting the door behind her.

Elizabeth scarcely knew the protocol for these situations. Was she to offer him a chair? To wait patiently for his demands? Even though she was still wearing her underthings, and even though she was standing in front of her lawful husband, she felt the urge to cover herself.

Before she could decide what to do, he began speaking.

"I came to apologize," he said gruffly. "I have been unaccustomed to dealing with women. I am especially unaccustomed to being married to one." She started to speak, but he raised a hand. "I didn't consider that my actions would affect you so. But, you are my wife, and you do have certain rights."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "So you're not stopping because of what the neighbors will say?"

"I'm stopping," he told her, "because you care what the neighbors will say."

She turned her back on him, pondering his words. "You've sent my dresser away."

"Here," he said, reaching for the laces of her corset. "Allow me."

When he had undressed her, he lay her down in her bed, covering her with his body. He was exceedingly gentle with her; her pain was intense, but momentary. He achieved his satisfaction in due course, then took his leave.

Elizabeth lay awake and tried to feel pleased. It was a necessary job adequately performed.


	4. Chapter 4

They sat around the conference table, Elizabeth and her crew on one side, Caldwell and his secretary, Marks, on the other. Elizabeth knew that Cowen's visit was fresh in everyone's minds; despite the success they'd had in the past week, the spectre of the Genii hung over them.

"Gerald Baxter," Rodney said. "His background is in the lesser sciences, true, but he's got some interesting ideas about wing design, particularly the shape of the individual beams comprising the-"

"We approve of him," Caldwell broke in.

"Agreed," Elizabeth said. "The next one, if you please?"

Rodney looked miffed, but he continued. "Aiden Ford."

"A guy from my old unit," Sheppard explained. "Good soldier and a decent pilot."

"I have some reservations," Caldwell said. "As I recall, he had some," he paused, "shall we say, trouble separating himself from the enemy during the war."

Sheppard's expression turned sour. "You're the last person who needs to be talking about that."

They stared each other down, the silence rapidly growing uncomfortable. "We'll table him for the moment," Elizabeth broke in, wanting little to do with whatever bad blood was between them. "Who's next?"

Rodney fussed with the papers in front of him, picking up the next resume. "Charles Haemon."

"A former employee of Cowen's," Elizabeth said, shaking her head. "An obvious ploy."

"Too obvious," Ronon said.

"Quite," Caldwell replied. "They'll have someone else."

"That's easy enough," Rodney said, crumpling up the paper and tossing it in the trash. He laid out the final papers from his stack. "And these three?"

"Childhood friends," Teyla explained. "I would trust them with my life."

"I found nothing of interest," Caldwell said, waving a hand.

Elizabeth pushed back from the table, signalling the end of the meeting. "That's settled, then."

The assembled stood, filtering out of the room. Elizabeth ended up directly beside Caldwell as they both attempted to leave. "After you, I insist," Caldwell said, holding out his arm.

"Thank you," she said, passing through the doorway. "Will you stay for tea?"

"I must return to the warehouse to oversee the new shipments," he said.

She nodded. "Then I will see you for supper."

"Of course," he said. "Until then. Ronon," he said, nodding to each of them in turn, "Teyla, Doctor McKay." His mouth took on the funny quirk it always did when he spoke to John. "Sheppard."

Elizabeth watched him go, not looking at her team, who were suspiciously quiet. She knew what they weren't saying, what she knew they would if they could; the stiff civility between her and her husband was just as alarming as if they'd been screaming at one another. Elizabeth knew no other way to treat him; cold formality had come to characterize the whole of their relationship. She supposed it was just as well. She'd married in order not to upset the sensibilities of the ton, and she had a marriage just as inoffensive as anyone could possibly hope for.

She put it out of her mind, turning to John, who was not so subtly trying to get her attention. "Elizabeth," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "About Ford-"

She looked up; Caldwell was across the room, consulting with Marks as he walked towards the door. "I have every intention of hiring him," she said quietly. "Mistakes were made during the war. I've had nothing but glowing reports of him since."

"It won't be easy to convince Caldwell-"

"This remains my facility," she said firmly. "I respect his opinions and take his concerns into account, but I make the final decisions here."

She could see from John's reaction that she'd been a bit more forceful than she intended. "Good," he said. "I'll let Ford know."

"Do that," she said. She turned away, looking at Rodney and Zelenka, who were pretending not to eavesdrop. "Now, I was promised a walk through the skeleton of the new ship, if it is indeed completed."

"It is wonderful," Zelenka gushed. "Come, I will show you."

Elizabeth let him lead her on, trying to focus on her business and her ships, ignoring everything else.

\--

He came into her room again that night; he'd learned to wait until Laura left her, so he didn't need to bother with her corset or, god forbid, her dresses.

She lay down in bed, spreading her legs and turning her face away, and allowed him to array himself over her. He kissed the side of her face, just once, as he pressed inside of her; it was as uncomfortable as usual, though he treated her as if she were made of glass.

Things began as they normally did, but the situation quickly deteriorated. It was difficult not to notice that he was soft, slipping unpleasantly in and out of her. She did her best not to interrupt him, so as to prevent any further humiliation on his part; the situation was unfortunate enough already.

After a few more pointless thrusts, he gave up and rolled off of her, throwing an arm over his face.

"I don't understand why you keep doing this to me," Elizabeth said, before she could stop herself.

He sighed, rubbing at his forehead with one hand. "A man has needs, Elizabeth."

"Be that as it may, you obviously don't-" She swallowed. "You might as well go back to your whores, if you want your needs fulfilled. You obviously don't want me."

"Is that what you think?" he said. "God _dammit_ , Elizabeth-"

"Steven!" she exclaimed, shocked at his language.

He looked at her, his gaze piercing. "Are you my wife or aren't you?"

"Yes."

He stared at her harder, and she was caught by the intense, nameless emotion in his eyes. "Do you trust me?"

It was a far more difficult question, but she already knew the answer. "Yes."

He sat up. "Then come here and let me show you what I want."

She hesitated, wary of his predilections, of what he might do to her. "Are you going to hurt me?"

"Yes," he said unabashedly, "and if you don't like it, I'll stop."

Elizabeth saw no reason why she should like it; the idea was preposterous. "Is this what you do with those girls?" she asked.

"No," he replied, and the longing look on his face made her regret having asked.

She let him gather her up, sitting her down in front of him, her back to his chest. She stiffened as he traced his hand down over her stomach. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

He sighed. "If you'll stop worrying, you might enjoy it."

She let herself settle back against him, not fighting this time when his hand found its way between her thighs. She bit her lip as he began to move his fingers, rubbing delicately over her sensitive flesh.

"Relax," he chided.

It was hard not to resist, at least at first, this audacious treatment. But his hands kept stroking her so gently, drawing pleasure whenever his fingertips found the perfect spot, that too soon she forgot to worry.

His hand found its way to her breast, massaging softly. He toyed with her nipple, circling his fingertips around it, before taking it in between his thumb and forefinger. He tightened his fingers by increments; it was nothing at first, but it blossomed into real discomfort, a hot point of pain that seemed to be connected to her whole body at once.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"Do you like it?" he pressed, his fingers clamping that much tighter.

She could stop him, she knew. She could protest at this offense, this utter violation; he was not monster enough to hold her here against her will. She could flee the house, if need be, or scream for help.

"Yes," she admitted.

He kissed up the side of her neck, nibbling and sucking, paying special attention to those spots that made her sigh. "It gets better," he whispered, his fingers moving faster. It had never been like this before between them. He had taken his pleasure from her, true, but he never seemed to _enjoy_ her body like he was now, playing her like a cherished instrument.

A sort of hysteria came over her, making her thrash against him; he held her tightly, his fingers unrelenting as they moved over her flesh. Tension was building inside of her, pushing her towards somewhere she'd never been, something she scarcely knew the outline of. The pain was a counterpoint, a bright white spark lancing through the morass of feeling clouding her head.

"That's it," he said, his voice soothing in her ear even as his fingers did wicked things to her. "Just relax and let me."

He pinched down harder on her nipple just as he pressed two fingers inside of her, working them in and out quickly, filling the ache inside of her. Her vision swam black, her whole body clenching; she threw her head back onto his shoulder, her breath coming in gasps. The feeling seemed to go on forever, rolling over her in wave after wave of sensation.

She collapsed against him, glad of his strong arms encircling her, but he gave her little respite. He lifted her up bodily, pushing inside of her, and it felt different than it ever had before; it felt like exactly what she needed. She gave herself over to him fully, reaching back to circle his neck with her arms, drawing him ever closer. That feeling of hysteria washed over her again; she found herself moving, pushing, working blindly towards that wonderful peak. He pushed her towards it, closer and closer, until she finally tumbled over it again, crying out. She felt his release inside of her, but it was a far distant feeling, insulated by the warmth that suffused her.

He pulled himself away from her very carefully, pulling her down to lay beside him on the bed. "Stay with me," she said, though her eyelids were so heavy she could barely keep them open.

He brushed her damp hair off of her forehead. "How could I leave?" he told her.

She let herself be pulled down into sleep, his arms still around her.


End file.
